Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 116

MAXIMUS'S POV

I didn't move.

I couldn't.

I stood there—rooted in place—watching her take care of Damien like the whole world began and ended with him. Every small movement she made felt like a punch to my chest. She wiped the blood from his neck, from his shoulders, from places I never wanted her hands to touch on another man.

Especially not him.

Jealousy hit me so hard I almost lost my breath. I'd never felt anything like it. It wasn't simple jealousy—it was something darker, twisted, vicious. It was wrong. It was selfish. It was insane.

But it was real.

I wanted her all to myself. Every part of her. Every glance. Every smile. Every breath.

I wanted her hands to touch only me. I wanted her eyes on me. I wanted her heart—her soul—everything.

The sight of her gently brushing Damien's hair away from his forehead made something in my chest snap. It felt like my ribs were bending inward, crushing my lungs, stealing the air from me. My hands clenched.

Rose can take care of him...The thought shot through me before I could stop it. And then the words came out of my mouth—quiet, desperate.

"Rose can take care of him."

My voice sounded wrong. Weak. Not like me.

The mark.

The mark I placed there—my mark—was gone.

Completely gone.

Emilia didn't react.

Not even a blink.

She just kept wiping Damien's skin, her face blank, her eyes empty, her expression unreadable. It was like she didn't hear me. Or worse—like she heard me but didn't find the words worth responding to.

My chest tightened painfully.

I opened my mouth to speak again, desperate for anything from her—a look, a word, even an insult—but then something caught my eye.

Her neck.

My heart stopped.

The mark.

The mark I put on her.

It was gone. Completely. Cleanly.

As if it had never existed.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart stumbled so hard it felt like it missed an entire beat.

I took a slow, shaky step forward. "Emilia," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "The mark... it's... it's gone."

She froze.

Just for a second.

Then she turned her head slowly, and her eyes met mine.

Those brown eyes—once warm, once full of light, once shining whenever they found me—were now empty. As empty as a dead sky. As cold as winter stone. Nothing inside them. Nothing at all.

It was like looking into the eyes of someone who had buried everything she ever felt.

And when she spoke, her voice was colder than her eyes.

"Yes. It's gone."

My throat tightened. "Emilia..."

"My wolf healed every unwanted thing on my body." Her voice didn't waver, didn't soften. "And that was one of them."

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Her words sliced through me, clean and deep, leaving a pain so sharp I felt my knees weaken. It was like something inside my chest cracked open.

Unwanted.

She called my mark unwanted.

My vision blurred for a moment, and it took me a second to realize why. My eyes burned. My chest burned. My whole body burned. I felt like I was standing too close to fire—but somehow freezing at the same time.

I didn't recognize the ache inside me. I didn't know pain could feel like this. I didn't know heartbreak could be this real. This physical. This cruel.

Emilia turned away again, as if the conversation bored her, as if I were nothing, as if everything inside me wasn't falling apart.

She dipped the cloth in the water, squeezed it gently, and pressed it to Damien's skin.

And I stood there like a fool, like a ghost, like a man watching his world slip through his fingers.

"Emilia..." My voice cracked. I hated it. I hated how weak I sounded. How desperate. How lost.

She didn't answer.

She didn't turn.

She didn't care.

And that—more than anything—broke me.

I forced myself to speak again, the words trembling in my throat. "I'll... I'll wait outside."

Finally, she reacted.

Not with a look.

Not with a softening.

Not with a sigh.

Just a simple, cold, two-word answer that shattered whatever was left of me.

"No need."

For a second, I genuinely thought something inside my chest would stop working. My heart tightened so violently it felt like it was trying to crush itself. My vision dimmed at the edges. My hands trembled, and I curled them into fists to hide it.

I swallowed hard.

Nodded once.

Just once.

Because it was all I could manage.

Then I turned and walked toward the door like my body wasn't even mine anymore. My legs felt heavy. My breath shook. My throat burned. I didn't know if I was going to collapse or scream or break into pieces right there.

But I kept walking.

Because staying in that room—staying there while she treated me like I didn't exist—would kill me faster than any blade.

I reached the door.

Opened it.

Stepped out.

And closed it behind me slowly, as if loudness would shatter something fragile in the air.

The moment the latch clicked, the strength in my legs disappeared.

I leaned back against the door, the cold wood pressing into my spine, and let my head fall back.

A shaky breath escaped me.

Then another.

Then another.

But they didn't help. They didn't calm me. They didn't ground me.

Because inside my chest, something was tearing open. Something was breaking apart. Something was bleeding in a way no healer could ever fix.

My vision blurred again.

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

But the tears didn't stop.

The first one slid down my cheek slowly, warm against my cold skin.

Then another.

And another.

And soon my face felt wet.

And I didn't even try to wipe them.

Maximus. King of all wolves. The monster. The cursed one. The one feared by the entire kingdom.The one who never bowed. The one who never cried.

Crying.

I pressed a hand over my chest, trying to steady it—but the pain only grew sharper, heavier, deeper.

I didn't know I could break.

But I was breaking.

And I was alone.

Utterly, painfully alone.

Behind the door, I heard nothing—no voice, no movement, no sign that Emilia even noticed I had left.

She didn't come after me. She didn't call my name. She didn't check if I was okay.

She didn't care.

And that truth hit me harder than anything had ever hit me before.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold myself together, trying to breathe through the pain—but every second only made it worse.

I don't know how long I stood there.

Seconds.

Minutes.

Hours.

Time didn't exist.

Only the door behind me.

Only the pain inside me.

Only the tears I couldn't stop.

And Maximus—the great, the feared, the powerful—stood there, heart shattered, soul crushed.

Crying.

Because the woman he loved looked at him like he was nothing.